


The Dream

by atenaglory



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 10:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15603909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atenaglory/pseuds/atenaglory
Summary: Garrus has been having dreams about a mysterious and violent death, and, against his better judgment, asks a "seer" for help.





	The Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is something of a soulmates AU- I wrote this a couple months ago after I'd read a certain book series, and I liked the idea of seeing your soulmate's death. I tweaked what I knew of Turian religion, so to speak, and this is what I came up with! It's not explicit, but that's the behind-the-scenes, I suppose.  
> Also this is my second fic with the word "dream" in the title but in my defense, this one is way more dream-based than the last one was.

The spirits were neutral. they manifested in areas of beauty, of power, of strength. They embodied virtues, but they did not interact directly with Turians, unless asked.

Some spirits, however, had more personality than others. Some interfered just because they could. Some had goals in mind, or took special interest in Turians that had remained near them for a particular amount of time, or perhaps that possessed similar virtues to a notable extent.

There were some Turians that claimed to have gifts from the spirits. In a society where space travel, cohabitation with intelligent alien life, and planetary colonization were common sense, however, these people were looked down upon. Indeed, who could be part of a society so blessed as the Turian society and want more? Turian society was, after all, largely based around being a small part of something bigger than oneself, and contributing to society. Those who felt the need to draw attention to themselves, to distance themselves from society by claiming spiritual favor, were naturally shunned by society as a whole.

Garrus Vakarian had loosely subscribed to these beliefs, too, for most of his life. He didn’t come into contact with many self-proclaimed “seers”, who were few and far between to begin with. Anyone who did claim supernatural or spirit-given gifts was casually stepped around on his way to wherever he was going. He never gave it much thought at all until he started having nightmares.

The first was of the inside of a ship. A beautiful ship, sleek, spacious, quiet. It was ablaze. The ground shook, he could hear screaming, crew of all races sprinted around, trying to do damage control and, when their assailant was proven to be unbeatable, dashing into escape pods. The dream was always like this, full of chaos and despair, and it always ended focused on a glossy helmet with the humans’ Systems Alliance N7 logo on it, a pair of human eyes visible through the helmet’s visor, widened in panic.

Garrus had no idea what to make of these dreams. If it had been a one-off thing, he would have simply brushed it aside. But time and time again he found himself sitting bolt upright in the bed in his citadel apartment, drawing ragged breaths as though he, too had just nearly died on that mysterious ship.

The ship was too detailed, too, to be something he had come up with in his imagination. He was an excellent technician and a weapons expert, but designing an entire ship, especially one as beautiful as the one he’d seen in his dreams, was beyond him.

The dreams changed, slowly. They started at a later point, and revealed more of the fate of the mysterious N7 soldier. she– as the rest of the dream unfurled it became apparent that the armor was shaped to a human woman– ended up spaced, with no air to sustain her due to bad luck during the attack on the ship. She fell into space as the wreckage of the ship she had been on floated around her. She had been last off the ship, so she was probably its captain, and her fate was burial in a grave suspended in space alongside said ship, as a captain should be.

By the time Garrus saw the fate of the mystery soldier, he had gotten used to the nightmare. It was still jarring to see a ship get blown to pieces—to _be in_ a ship as it was blown to pieces—but it had become familiar enough that his sense of panic wasn’t nearly as strong as it had been the first few times.

But when he finally saw the woman get flung into space with no lifeline, no air, he burst into awareness clutching at his own throat and gasping.

This was no ordinary dream, he decided finally.

Under the half-joking advice of one of his human coworkers, Garrus went to see a “seer” about his problem.

_We believe that this is a spirit of Valor,_ the chosen representative of the seers had offered. _The dream is a warning_.

But why him? Why would this spirit choose him to warn? And why about some human soldier?

_This spirit has been with you for quite some time, it seems. Perhaps it has grown fond of you, and chosen to warn you about something important to you_.  _This woman will be someone important to you. Perhaps you are responsible for the violent end that you have seen in your dreams. Or perhaps…._

Garrus left the meeting feeling foolish and frustrated. Now he understood why seers were mistrusted, why they were shunned.

In the military, Garrus had been part of successful units, aboard winning ships countless times. Being on the winning ship meant being part of the destruction of the losing ship or base or whatever the situation was. It meant having a hand in many deaths. He’d never dreamt about anyone he’d already killed. Plus, he was C-Sec now. Plenty of mercs—perhaps more than the higher-ups would like—got shot and killed on the job.

The other suggestion that they had given was utter nonsense. He was glad he hadn’t paid them, but still felt his pride stinging because, for a moment, he’d believed that the spirits had chosen him of all people to bestow a message on.

He continued to suffer with his nightmares, until he left the citadel. Commander Shepard, of the Systems Alliance, had gone on a mission to find evidence implicating the Spectre Saren in an attack on the human colony of Eden Prime. Garrus had been the detective in charge of the C-Sec investigation on Saren, and it had gone nowhere. Now, he vowed to help Shepard to find evidence against Saren, and once that had been completed, to bring Saren in for his crimes and stop him from achieving whatever apocalyptic goals he and the Geth had set out to meet.

Shepard was a human-sized human (small), with an imposing gait, an unwavering scowl, and sharp skills on the battlefield. Every moment fighting with her felt like truly being alive to Garrus. She was a teacher to him, she sharpened him and gave him the grit to do what needed to be done and never doubt himself.

Garrus never failed to note her glossy helmet with the n7 logo, to match the one on her chestplate.

_Or perhaps, this woman is your true love._

It had sounded like a taunt in the moment. The person in his dream meant something big to Garrus, and he knew that nothing would make him have a hand in killing Shepard. Was he in love with her, then? Did it matter? They were running, running, running. Chasing Saren’s trail while it was hot, fighting rachni, fighting plant-monsters, running to Ilos, fighting Geth and more Geth. Who had time to fall in love?

But Garrus did have time for one thing.

It was impossible to walk the halls of the Normandy, to become familiar with the layout of the ship, with its nooks and crannies, with the location of the escape pods, without acknowledging how awfully familiar the whole thing was. He often allowed himself to fall asleep under the Mako just so that he wouldn’t have any images lingering in his mind to trigger the dream again.

But whatever spirit had chosen to show him those vision was probably still back on the citadel, anyway.

Was Shepard going to die?

By the time they had returned to the Citadel to fight Sovereign and the Geth, this question seemed ridiculous. When Saren was dead and Sovereign was reduced to disturbingly ominous debris on the citadel, it was almost laughable to think that some enemy could overpower the Normandy, that Shepard could die in space, which was her domain. And only slightly less ridiculous to think that Garrus could fall in love with a human.

He went back to the Citadel to try once more to become a Spectre.

And Shepard died.

Spaced, just like the dream he’d had.

The hole that instantly opened in his chest, the feeling of having been gutted completely that pierced him upon hearing the news, let him know immediately and ruthlessly why the spirits had chosen him for this particular prophecy.

He only understood that he loved Shepard once she was gone.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I actually meant for this to have a happy end, but I've rediscovered it months later and decided that this is a good place to stop. I may or may not come back to it some day though.


End file.
